Idealistic
by SgtMac
Summary: Before the Dark Curse is cast, before there is a Marion, Robin Hood attempts to steal from the Evil Queen in her own forest, and nearly loses his life for it. This is that story. Pre Outlaw Queen.


**A/N:** This story asks: what if the Evil Queen had crossed paths with Robin Hood and his Merry Men in the Enchanted Forest? How did he survive? Does she know him?

Timeline: A few months after the events that occurred in the OUAT: Wonderland episode 1x03 (so before there was a Marion and definitely before there was a Roland), and just before Regina makes the trade with Maleficent for the sleeping curse.

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Regina is half asleep when the carriage comes to an abrupt stop in the Enchanted Forest. They're about halfway to their end destination, and the one thing she knows for sure is that they should not be stopping here. Their end destination is the castle up the hill. Where her so-called only friend resides.

Maleficent, of course.

The crazy old bitch.

Unfortunately, since she's been the Queen, Regina had learned how to deal with the unexpected and occasionally violent. When you're riding in a horse-drawn carriage full of gold and royal jewels, you tend to be considered an easy mark for thieves and other petty criminals. As such, she only travels with the very best of her guardsmen – the ones hardened by battle and decidedly cold blooded enough to kill without a second thought. They're well paid for their loyalty, and though deep in her darkened heart, there's a pang of sadness at this, the rest of her knows that in days like these, everything has a cost including fidelity.

"What's going on? Claude, why have we stopped?" she calls out as she comes fully to her waking senses. She sits up straight and runs her hands down the dark red cloak that she's wearing over the outfit that she'd chosen to wear for this trip. Were she visiting anyone besides Mal, she might have gone more feminine and worn a regal gown, but for the woman who tends to turn herself dragon whenever she has a temper tantrum, she dresses in all leather and very high-heeled boots. It's all about power with Maleficent, and she'll be damned if she'll go in looking in any way weak.

"There looks to be a badly wounded man in the middle of the road, Your Majesty," Claude replies, his tone sharp, but obediently respectful. "Stay inside the carriage and rest; we'll get this resolved immediately."

Sighing like the petulant child she often feels like when she's told to not do anything besides sit still like the pampered royal she's supposed to be, she reluctantly settles herself back against the red velvet seat. Queen or not, Regina isn't one for letting others handle things. Yes, it's the guardsmen's job to protect her, and this could very easily be some kind of ambush, but if it's not, then there's no fear to be had about a wounded traveler.

Minutes pass, and her irritation grows exponentially. Finally, scowling, she shoves the door to the carriage open and steps out. "Claude!" she barks.

Her eyes track over to where Claude and two of the other guardsmen are bent over a dirty older man with entirely too much hair on his face. His leg is bent in front of him and bright red like he's broken it in the middle.

"Stay there, Your Majesty," Claude calls back at her, and it's only because she knows that he's trying to protect her that she doesn't remind him that he has no right to give her orders. "We've got this under control." She notices that his hand is on the hilt of his sword, like he's on edge.

The man on the ground groans at that moment, loudly and like he's in deep pain, and something real and bright inside Regina – something that she's spent a very long time burying – burns to life, and instinctively – much to Claude's shock and horror - she steps towards the wounded traveler.

She thinks that she means to help the poor bastard.

But then she hears the sound behind her. It's so very soft, but her ears are good, and her senses are finally tuned, and perhaps she feels the air move.

She tenses, and snaps around, and that's when she sees the man rising up and away from her carriage, one of the royal coin purses in his big hands.

She growls. "It's a trick," she hisses before she pops her hands open and throws a burst of energy at the escaping thief. Unfortunately, her emotions are off enough – anger at herself for being played like such a pathetic weakling – that the light does little more than slam against the tree and cause it to wilt and fall to the side, a loud whooshing sound echoing.

And then the thief is gone.

She turns back towards her men, and to her delight, she sees Claude holding his sword against the throat of the man they'd thought hurt.

_Oh, but he will be._

She stalks towards him, snarling. "Do you know who I am?" she demands.

"You're royalty," he replies, chin up and defiant. "Beyond that, I have no care of whom you are." His frightened eyes track towards her carriage, and she's reminded of the fact that this is one of the unmarked ones; it's the one she uses when she's traveling across dangerous lands that could be full of assassins. Sometimes it's better to be seen as a mere noble than as the Queen especially when you're hated by many simply for daring to exist.

Amongst other things, of course.

"I am the _Queen_ of this land," Regina replies coldly, her dark eyes blazing with fury. "You are in my territory which means that your life is forfeit as of this moment." She leans in. "That is, whatever life you have left to you."

"I'm not afraid of you," he retorts, struggling against Claude desperately.

"Stupid man. Did you not hear what I said? Who I am?"

"So you're the Queen. You're just a woman."

"Yes. Just a _woman_." She clenches her hand when she says this, and immediately the air in his lungs cuts off, and he's choking, his eyes nearly bugging from the sockets as he registers his lack of oxygen. "Now, as I was saying: your life is forfeit…unless your friend who stole from me is brave enough to take your place. I think we both know he's still here, yes?"

The man gasps in pain but shakes his head in the negative.

"Oh, but that's a shame, dear," Regina coos, a delicate hand reaching out to stroke his cheek even as she tightens her chokehold on him. "Because by my estimate, you have less than a minute to live since your friend refuses to show himself. But then what else can be expected of a coward who preys on the sympathies of travelers, and then steals from them."

"I am no coward," she hears an accented voice say from behind her.

She turns and stares in disbelief back at a tall bearded man dressed in all leather. He's wearing a hood that shadows the majority of his face and eyes, and there's a bow strapped to his back. Undeniably handsome and strong looking, he's staring right at her in a way that unsettles the Queen.

"Are you the thief that stole from me?" she demands.

"I am the _man _who borrowed from you, Your Majesty," he counters as he holds up the coin purse and after showing it to her, tosses it back to her. It lands with a puff of dust at her feet, and is then retrieved by one of the guards who hands it to her. "Release my friend as you promised," the hooded man continues, "And then I will gladly place myself at your mercy."

"I don't believe that I actually offered a trade," she informs him, nonetheless releasing her grip on the hooded man's friend ever so slightly.

"Then I am."

"And I would take such a trade, why? I can easily have both of your heads."

"You can, but we will fight you, which could lead to unexpected consequences for everyone here; you might have magic, but we know these woods quite well, and I expect we'd take some blood before this is over."

"I don't take well to threats," she warns him.

"I have no desire to threaten you, Your Majesty. I simply myself in place of my friend, and hope that you will agree to this exchange."

"Very well," she says, a cruel smile on her lips "If you're so desperate to die today, who am I to argue. Your life for his.". She waves her hand to release the grip on the man on the ground. He falls away, choking, his eyes wide.

"Bitch," he growls at her.

"Enough," the hooded man orders. "Return to the others."

"Yes, do as your master commands you and run along home," Regina taunts. "And if I were you, I'd run fast, and hope I never see you again."

The man shakes his head. "No, I won't leave you, Ro –"

"Go," the hooded man tells his friend, a just barely visible smile appearing on his lips. His voice is gentle and understanding, but firm. "I'll be fine."

The man swallows, but then does as he's told and jumps to his feet. "We'll come back for you," he promises just before he runs off into the woods.

"You want us to follow?" Claude asks, his hand on his sword.

"No," Regina replies coolly, her eyes on the hooded man who is staring back at her, his jaw clenched. "We made a deal, didn't we?"

"We did."

Grinning wickedly, she glides towards him; her grace and dominance clear in every long stride that she takes. "Tell me, Thief, why should I not have you beheaded on the spot? Stealing from the Queen – the Evil Queen, no less - is a crime punishable by death." She tilts her head. "Or at least a hundred lashings and a nice long stay in the dampest of my underground dungeons."

"I fear not death, torture nor imprisonment, Your Majesty," he replies, his voice clear and strong. "As for why you should not, well perhaps the reason you should not kill me is because you clearly do not wish to."

She laughs at this, the sound echoing through the tears. It's high and loud, and quite obviously false, but it's enough to set her guardsmen on edge; they've been with her long enough to know when she's starting to anger in a dangerous way. Right now, she's still mostly amused with this man, but that's a very thin line for her, and it's quite easy for her to lose interest in playing with her toys, and choose to break them instead during a fit of fury.

"I don't wish to?" she echoes. "And why don't I?"

"Because I took my man's place in front of you," he says.

"And you think that I'm impressed by your heroics?" she all but spits at him.

"I think you're impressed by my loyalty," he answers. "And his to me."

"Even if I were – and Thief, don't dare to presume you know me enough to think you can read me so easily – that doesn't change the fact that you stole from me, and you must be punished for such a selfish crime."

"It wasn't selfish, Your Majesty. And I didn't steal for myself."

She laughs again. "Didn't you? Tell me, what did you plan to do with my gold, then? Pay for a few drinks for your men, buy yourself some women?"

"My intention was neither. It was to distribute the gold to those who have need of it in the kingdom just beyond the southern edge of the Enchanted Forest; the one that sits against the border of King George's land."

She tilts her head thoughtfully. "Nottingham?"

"Yes."

"You were stealing from me to give to the peasants there," she muses. She's heard of Nottingham's - specifically Prince John's - financial troubles, of course, but as long as he and his thunderously stupid soldiers have stayed off of her part of the Enchanted Forest – and George's side, too, for that matter – the issues been of little overall concern to her.

"I was."

"You're the thief who was stupid enough to steal from Maleficent a few months ago," she realizes, a malicious grin lighting across her brightly painted lips. "The one who took the looking glass from her."

"It wasn't I who took the looking glass from her castle, and that man is no longer with us, but I will confess to having taken the gold from her castle."

"You must have known it quite stupid to go against a sorceress such as Maleficent," she muses. "And yet you repeated the action with me."

"We did not know it was you or we would not have tried to take from you."

"You need better scouts then, Thief," she notes.

"Perhaps I do," he agrees, and she thinks she sees his body tense at the identifying term she uses for him. Interesting, she thinks.

"You don't like to be called a thief, do you?"

"I don't consider myself one."

"I'm pretty sure most of your victims would disagree."

"I never take from those who can afford," he insists. "I take from those who have an abundant amount, and those would use their surplus for evil."

"Yes, of course you do. Because you're so very noble aren't you," she chuckles. He just gazes back at her, unwilling to rise to the bait. So, continuing on in a tone that can only be described as openly mocking of him, she says, "So, if I'm understanding you correctly, Thief, you're saying that you stole from Maleficent and then you attempted to steal from me to…help the terribly oppressed people of dear Nottingham?"

"Yes," he affirms again. "They're not as fortunate as your people. Despite your reputation as the Evil Queen, Your Majesty no one here in your land is starving or in need of a roof over their heads. The people in Nottingham are, and that is what this – and that - gold is for. Not for me, for them."

"How very righteous and heroic," she says as she reaches up and runs a hand over the leather of his hood. It would be so easy to rip it down and look at his face, but there's a ridiculous thrill in the mystery of not being able to see more than tantalizing hints of him. Just his blue eyes when the sunlight streams just right through the trees, and his lips when he speaks.

So for now, he gets to keep the hood.

Until she bores of this game, at least.

"I'm not doing this to be righteous or heroic; I'm doing this because it's what should be done, and someone needs to do it."

"Someone like you, I presume?" she laughs again, the sound still high and shrill. "Tell me why I shouldn't just hand you over to Maleficent? I'm on my way there now, and you would make an excellent greeting gift to her."

He nods his head at this, and then replies with, "Because what good would come of that? Is anyone better for my death at her hands? Or yours?"

"And who are you to decide what is good and bad or what is better for others?" She moves her face very close to his, so close that she can feel the heat rising off his body. "A man who hides his face beneath his hood and lives by trickery and deception. What do you know of right and wrong?"

"Enough to know that no child should ever starve because of the greed of a King or a Queen," he answers, his light blue eyes lifting to meet her terribly dark ones. "If you wish to punish me by imprisoning me, killing me or even handing me over to the sorceress, I clearly cannot stop you. Know this, though: I will not beg for my life, and I will not apologize for trying to do the work that those with power such as yourself should already do."

His words are nothing short of treason, and she can tell by the looks being exchanged by her guardsmen that they are expecting her to order the hooded man's immediate death for daring to tell her what she should do.

But there will be no blood spilled on this beautiful afternoon, she decides.

"You are an idealistic naive fool," she says quietly.

"That I am, Your Majesty" he agrees.

"And you will end up dead, hanging at the end of a rope for those ideals."

"Very likely."

"But it won't be by my hands. Not today at least." Regina steps away from him, and then motions to Claude and the others guard to put away their swords. "The thief is free to go as well. He is not to be punished."

"Your Majesty –" Claude begins.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Claude," she snaps, eyes blazing. For whatever reason, she will allow this outlaw to challenge her because his dedication to his misguided ideals intrigues her, but she will not permit it from one of her soldiers who is paid handsomely to be obedient and loyal.

Claude nods, and steps back, his head properly lowered in submission.

"You're doing the right thing," the hooded man assures her.

"Highly doubtful," she responds icily, her mood suddenly almost dark and morose. "And I am not release you now without conditions, either."

"Such as?"

"I warned your man not to ever let me see him again on pain of death, and now I am extending the same warning to you," she answers, once again leaning in, this time close enough to smell the earthy nature of his decidedly masculine scent. "Should we ever cross paths again, it will signal your last moments of live upon this earth. Should you ever attempt to steal from anyone in my part of this forest again, I will have you hunted down like the dog that you are and flayed before I have you drawn and quartered."

"Is that all?" he queries, a strange smirk lifting his lips.

She tilts her head. "Do you think this a joke, Thief?"

"Of course not, but I'm no better with threats than you are, and I can only answer that I will continue to do the work that I was put here to do."

"I don't care what you do elsewhere. I only care that you don't do you thieving and terrorizing on my land. Do we have an agreement?"

He considers this, and then inclines his head. "We do."

"Excellent. Now, understand this as well: I'm letting you live and leave now because despite my _reputation_, I do actually respect strength and bravery," she says, reaching out to place a hand on his muscular bicep. She squeezes it for a brief moment before stepping back and away. "And perhaps, I might even respect someone willing to stand up for their misguided ideals."

"You might see my ideals misguided," he challenges. "But I call the pursuit of happiness for every man, woman and child to be a worthy cause."

"Happiness is an illusion. An impossible story told to children," she sneers.

"I don't believe that," he counters, his voice almost gentle. "I believe that happiness is attainable for everyone, and is in fact a basic human right."

Yes, well, believe whatever you'd like, as long as I never see you again."

"Understood." There's a pause and then he says. "It hasn't failed my notice, Your Majesty, that you never asked my name or to see my face. Why not?"

"It's better that I don't know who you are so that I feel nothing but pity when word travels back to me of your inevitable execution," she replies shortly. She steps away from him, then, turning her back on him and moving away, her road coat flaring behind her as her heeled boots dig into the dirt.

She knows he's watching her move.

Just as she reaches her carriage, she turns around and stares at him, her dark eyes turbulent and thoughtful.

He's watching her, trying to read her, trying to understand her.

Suffice it to say, this intense study of her, this attempt at trying to understand her, well it unsettles her more than she cares to admit.

Before he can speak again, she throws the coin purse at him, and then climbs into her carriage before it can land in his hands, and before he can ask questions or say things that she can't bear to hear; she doesn't want soft words or assurances of her humanity. They're useless these days, anyways.

Besides, it's just gold.

And no matter how much gold she gives away, it won't save her soul.

"Continue on," she says to Claude. "We're already late, and I think we all know by now how much Maleficent hates when guests delay dinner." She offers up this worthless bit of information like she's completely bored by it.

Because she's the Queen, and nothing affects her.

Certainly not a hooded wanna-be hero with foolish ideals.

She closes her eyes, and resolves to forget about the man.

She knows that she's right, and that one day she'll hear that a hooded bandit who dared to rob the elite has been captured by the Sheriff of Nottingham and hung, and though he'll certainly have it coming, she finds herself thankful that his righteous idealistic blood won't be on her hands.

She feels the carriage moving, sliding over tightly packed dirt and broken branches as it makes its way up the hill towards the castle.

She has a deal to speak of with Maleficent. A trade to make.

Something that she desperately hopes will help her finally defeat the girl whose very existence haunts her every waking moment.

Just the thought of this makes the darkness creep back towards her heart.

She thinks that maybe the shadows had peeled away for a few moments while she'd been speaking to the thief, but most likely that had just been the excitement of sparring with someone who had been willing to stand up to her. Strange how much she delights in those rare moments.

For now, though, the creeping diseased darkness wins.

Because though she may reject the title most of the time, she knows deep down that she still is the Evil Queen, and she doesn't have the time nor the space in her cold dark heart for idealism, hope or worthy noble causes.

She only has room for vengeance.

And she will have hers.

Whatever it takes.

-Fin.


End file.
